


what's been broken

by sharkle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-19
Updated: 2010-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkle/pseuds/sharkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But then - he presses his head into his knees, closes his eyes, trying to let the blackness take it all away - you can't fix what's been broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what's been broken

They're laughing as they run, Filch's shouts and swears echoing behind them. The entire floor reeks of sweaty socks and rotten eggs - a particularly odd mix, in Lee's opinion. But he's sure that Filch's nostrils must be positively on fire if it's this bad from this distance.

The three of them skid around a corner, and George trips; Fred and Lee are too busy being doubled over, stomachs hurting, to help him back up. Then, a bellow -

"I'LL KILL YOU RUDDY KIDS IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!"

\- and it sounds so real, so actually murderous that it really gets them sprinting this time, as fast as their legs can carry them, jumping stairs and ducking through shortcuts, all without saying a word to one another so they don't give themselves away.

Lee bursts through a door, tumbles inside just before it slams shut. He lays there for a few moments, breathing heavily, and then lifts his head to share his exhilaration with Fred and George.

He's faced with an empty room.

Grin vanishing instantly, he pushes himself up and draws his wand. It's dark and completely deserted, as far as he can tell, and his footsteps reverberate faintly as he turns in a circle.

Then, without warning, the room is suddenly lit, revealing nothing but blank stone walls, the door behind him, and - is that a mirror?

The thing is huge, eight feet tall, if not ten, towering to the ceiling. The glass is covered in scratches, coated with dust; black areas that look like burn marks mar its great clawed feet. The frame may have been gold at some point in its life, but not now, not anymore, instead resembling the color of too-old cheese. There are obviously words etched into the top arch, but they're hard to make out, and he doesn't even try.

Lee edges closer, wondering why the mirror is here and what's so special about it that it's earned a place in Hogwarts. He lowers his gaze to his own reflection - and jumps, because he isn't alone.

He whirls around, expecting to see them standing right there, almost gets his hopes up, only to be faced again with the door.

He turns back to the mirror.

In the image, he looks the same, although he thinks maybe his eyes are brighter and his posture is lighter. At his right shoulder, his father - his father - is standing, beaming at him, his arms impossibly around Lee's mother.

"What?" Lee chokes, as if they might answer him.

When was the last time his parents had hugged each other like this? The last time they could even stand to be in the same room? Lee racks his brain and thinks and thinks and then he panics because he can't remember and that scares him more than anything else in the entire world -

And then he remembers.

He was eight.

Eight years, five months, and three weeks old.

That was the last time he ever saw them kiss or hug.

By the time he turned nine, they were divorced.

He remembers.

The stress is pulling on him, even at Hogwarts, even as he's joking and laughing and pretending nothing's wrong. It's always there, always lurking in the shadows of his mind, and as much as he'd like to tell more people than just Fred and George (who, really, are enough), it's too easy to convince himself that he doesn't need anyone else.

Then why, says the pessimistic voice that cropped up after their divorce, do you feel like you're being torn in two?

A weekend with Dad, a week with Mum, a weekend with Dad, a week with Mum - Christmas with Mum, Easter with Mum...

Lee moves closer still to the mirror so that he can touch it, stretching out a hand to his mother's on his shoulder. His fingers barely brush the glass; some part of him (the one that aches deep, deep inside his very self) is afraid that if he pushes too hard, it will all shatter.

That aching part wonders if there's some way to get them back together, to make them a family again, to make the smiling mask he wears real - to mend it all.

He shifts, ready to sit, sit and watch them be happy forever. He's a little jealous of his reflection, who has both his parents, but Lee knows there's -

Nothing he can do about it.

In a moment, he comes back to himself. In a moment, reality crashes down. In a moment, his parents' gazes turn to something different from happy, more like two mortal enemies who have merely come to a temporary truce.

Lee scrambles away, tripping over himself in his haste to escape. He's remembering again -

Remembering -

Remembering the vase that exploded against the wall, the suitcase that was packed and unpacked, the wand that spiraled through the window, the door that banged open and hung half off its hinges, the voices that yelled and cried and screamed, the iron grip that dragged him away from his father -

The knowledge that nothing would ever be the same -

He reaches the door, throws it open, runs and runs and runs as fast as he can, before his legs give out and his nose smacks hard against stone; blood gushes out, impervious to the dabbing of his sleeve, unstoppable.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Lee draws his knees up to his chest, wishing he could forget what he saw.

Wishing he could fix it all.

But then - he presses his head into his knees, closes his eyes, trying to let the blackness take it all away - you can't fix what's been broken.

**Author's Note:**

> For a Mirror of Erised Competition on HPFC at FF.net.


End file.
